


Green-Eyed

by krisherdown



Category: The OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-14
Updated: 2004-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 00:46:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krisherdown/pseuds/krisherdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He’s the heroic one, desperate to save her from, well, her. I’m more like the boy cowering in the corner when I see something lurking in the shadows at night. Not that I do that. Anymore. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green-Eyed

**Author's Note:**

> This begins at or right after the last scene in "The Proposal", when the gang got together in Marissa's newly decorated room.

So he’s back with Marissa.

Perfect, just purrfect. We’re back to being two couples who hang out together. Even as the four of us sat on that bed, bonding over inane stuff like Marissa’s stupid stuffed animal and its creepy Care Bear Stare, I ruefully realize it’s all about Marissa for him.

I can try to pretend it doesn’t matter the way he’s looked at her since he came to Newport. But, as time has gone on, that becomes more difficult.

I seem to be slipping lately. Even Summer has begun making jokes about a possible guy crush. Of course, her theory is based on unrelated events…

I dare anyone not to cry during that movie! Summer claims she didn’t but she also spent ten minutes of the film in the bathroom. _He_ didn’t cry. Of course he didn’t. He’s a fucking statue. Then again, I wouldn’t mind commissioning a statue of him, preferably life-size and stashed in my closet.

Not that I got a good look at him shirtless when I barged in. Nope. Not at all. I couldn’t even remember there was a scar on his left shoulder blade. Oh wait…

Now that I’ve gotten that fleeting moment, I crave more.

Unfortunately, his world revolves around Marissa again.

Well, it always has. But this time, it’s official.

* * * * *

  
“There’s a you-and-Marissa again?” I finally asked him. We were in the kitchen, he was eating Cap’n Crunch, I had the Fruit Loops.

“Guess so,” he muttered through a mouthful of food.

I dropped my spoon into the bowl. “You _guess_? Don’t you want her?”

He swallowed the rest in his mouth before answering, “She requires this right now. Everything else around her is messed up.”

“How do you feel about her? That’s a simple enough question.”

He affirmed, “It’s not about my feelings right now. Just comfort.”

“Until everything magically gets fixed and there’s no need for you in her life? Marissa is a needy ball of…need.” I shook my head. “When she figures out that you’re with her for only her benefit, her fragile psyche will shatter once again.”

“This is easier that the alternative.” His expression was difficult for Seth to read. Each look seemed to convey at least a page of information, single-spaced, so not understanding the language this time was irritating.

“Marissa will fall. That is a fact. Doesn’t matter whether or not you’re dating her.”

* * * * *

I walked up the path to the poolhouse. She’s there on his bed and he’s not. Not a good sign. Well, I suppose fortunate in that at least he wasn’t with her, sucking face…but that wasn’t the point here.

I can’t see her face so I can’t gauge how emotional she is at this moment. Her frail arms appear to cover her whole body, which shouldn’t be physically possible.

I feel like a creepy stalker, although I could justify it as “romantic hero syndrome”. The guys in those movies always look so suave when following around the potential love interest.

Except I’m not heroic.

He’s the heroic one, desperate to save her from, well, her.

I’m more like the boy cowering in the corner when I see something lurking in the shadows at night. Not that I do that. Anymore.

I suddenly notice he was now in the room. Standing by the room, staring down at her. Confused as to whether to join her on the bed or to run far far away from the mess sitting there.

He spoke too low to hear through the glass but her piercing wail sailed through unmistakably. I ducked behind a drawn curtain just in time as she dragged herself out of the poolhouse.

I stood there, debating whether to look in any further. Impatience took over after three minutes and nine seconds. One hundred eighty nine Mississippi’s.

Just as I made the decision to spy, the poolhouse door swung open again. He walked over to the pool, the cigarette already lit, and sat on the edge with his bare feet dangling in the water.

I made the effort to be noisy as I approached but he made no movement. I sat next to him.

It was a surprise that he spoke first. “Guess that didn’t work out as planned.”

“What happened?” Well, I really didn’t know the details that led to the weeping.

“She wanted more than I can give her right now.”

”What’d she want?” The last word barely fell out of my mouth when I realized I really didn’t want to know.

“Me.” Suspicion confirmed.

I looked out into the water, searching for something to say. What I really wanted to say about Marissa was not for this time or place. It may be best when Summer gets into a fight with her and needs someone to agree with her.

Then again, I wouldn’t have that available if I went along with what I really wanted. I’d have whatever actually occurs during a rage blackout. It would involve IV tubes, a deformed face and a faint memory, I already concluded that much.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work,” I offered then opted to leave him be. I stood up, gave a pat on the shoulder, then retreated to the house. Yet again, the coward appeared, this time not even able to be a good enough friend to listen to the sordid details.

I’ve almost slipped away when he said pointedly, “No, you’re not.”

I slowly turn around. The expression is the same one he had in the kitchen. I had to figure this out quickly because I certainly wasn’t going to get the words that defined that expression. “I’m not?”

He stood up, taking long strides toward me. Once he’s sure he got my attention, he said, “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

“I’m jealous?” I said, the voice up higher than normal. I tried to cough it away, looking down at the ground. Which happens to be where his bare feet are, which was so not helping.

“All you had to do was say so.” He placed a finger under my chin to force me to look at him. I took a gulp as those blue eyes narrow on me. The message is clear this time. “I could have gotten rid of Marissa sooner.”

I asked, “You were waiting for this?”

He answered by brushing his lips over mine. It’s kind of rough but not something that should be stopped. It should be appreciated like people say fine wine should.

As he’s about to break away, I made the move to keep this going by grabbing onto the back of his neck and pulling him back for more. I needed him to know that this was the right decision.

What he needed was to not choose Marissa again.  



End file.
